


do you hear that scratching (there's something at the door)

by definition_of_desperation



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aiden Lives (The Witcher), BUT WITH A TWIST ;), Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Fangs, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion-centric, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Protective Lambert (The Witcher), Ruthlessly Cherry-Picked Canon, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), aiden is alive and nothing bad will ever happen to him, and also to please the stans ur valid, basically book geralt with show jaskier, but im only through the first book so i have no idea what goes on there so its show universe sorry, i dont like yennefer but im gonna include her bc i recognize her place in the canon, jaskier isnt a canon creature i made it up for this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definition_of_desperation/pseuds/definition_of_desperation
Summary: The bard was dependable, though. If he had to choose between Geralt and a woman, he always chose Geralt, even if the Witcher insisted upon leaving by himself. Though Jaskier would not be Geralt's first choice for a while, it was good to know that he was Jaskier's.(But why was a famous bard so lonely that he would follow him around, Geralt didn't think to ask.)A story about Geralt, Jaskier, and their unhealthy friendship where Geralt doesn't ask enough questions and Jaskier is left with the assumption that constant chatter - no matter how important - is annoying. In a destructive reveal, Jaskier's secrets are spilled, and Geralt faces his fears.Or: Geralt is an oblivious idiot as Jaskier is slowly dying.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel & Vesemir (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Valdo Marx, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir, Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher), Triss Merigold & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	do you hear that scratching (there's something at the door)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a long fic and the first one in this fandom!
> 
> I've watched the show, played the games a bit and read the first book. I think I know the plot enough to understand the relationships between the characters, but even so I say: fuck that lol
> 
> Comments keep the fic going, especially requests and incorrect guesses at what's happening ˇwˇ
> 
> Wish me luck~!

"We need to make camp," Geralt announced, leading Roach off the road and towards the forest. He knew it wasn't wise to wander too far into the thicket, but there was also the very real possibility of bandits running into them if they stayed too close to the road. It was the better option; Geralt had a steel blade for that exact reason.

There was plenty of room between the trees and the road, more than enough for a decent campsite. Geralt started by taking care of Roach, taking her saddle off and brushing her down quickly. He figured he could pay her some extra attention later to make it up to her. Right now, he needed to figure out Jaskier's place in his life.

Tonight was the first one they would spend together and Geralt took the opportunity to see if Jaskier could handle spending an entire night outside. He had to know if the bard could handle something like this.

Geralt took to gathering stones and firewood, while Jaskier stayed behind and just stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Once the fire was lit, Geralt went deeper into the woods to hunt some fresh meat. Jaskier could just sit and wait for all he cared, he was too tired to babysit him. Clearly, seeing as he got taken down by just a couple of elves and a sylvan.

It took him a while to come back with a couple of hares, and by the time he was back, Jaskier had apparently set up their bedrolls. Geralt paused, then, knowing for a fact that he only had one bedroll. He'd figured he would give it to Jaskier until the idiot figured out to buy one for himself, but it seemed that wasn't needed. Which also raised the question of where he was keeping it. The bard only had a lute case and a small shoulder bag. Neither could possibly fit a bedroll, nor the new blankets and pillows.

"Where'd you get this stuff?"

Jaskier jumped at the voice, eyes wide. Geralt picked up a faint scent of panic. "I have a magic bag. It's bigger on the inside than it is outside. Quite convenient, and cost me some pretty coin, too."

Geralt hummed, nodding slowly. This didn't make the bard any less suspicious, but it calmed him enough, for now, to get on with the day. He was far too tired to worry about this. Besides, Jaskier seemed too incompetent to do any major harm.

The rest of the evening went fine. While Geralt skinned the hares and took care of Roach, Jaskier gathered some - surprisingly edible - fruit and berries, and cooked the meat. It didn't taste bad. Geralt went to sleep, satisfied. Jaskier stayed up late into the night, humming a tune that Geralt didn't mind in the least.

* * *

The first time Jaskier saw Geralt actually kill was unpleasant. Geralt had downed way too many potions to keep the poison at bay and the bleeding to a minimum. Jaskier had listened to Geralt's instructions well enough, though the shock had him frozen and slow to react. Still, it was good to know that the brunet could act accordingly under pressure and in dangerous situations.

It wasn't a contract, but it was dangerous anyway. A nest of venomous arachas that could kill a man with a single nick. Jaskier seemed either knowledgable enough about the insectoids to stay the fuck away, or at least sensed Geralt's unease enough to realize that this was truly a shitty way to die if he got too close.

(Geralt also considered the possibility of Jaskier being afraid of bugs or spiders, but he quickly recalled an incident a couple of days ago when he'd found the bard doting over a comb-footed spider.)

Jaskier stayed back even as the beasts were all dead and Geralt was looting their bodies for venom and mutagens. Just his luck; Jaskier was downwind and he couldn't smell if he was staying back from fear or because he was waiting for a signal. Not wanting to pressure the bard into staying by his side even high on his potions and adrenaline from the fight, Geralt gathered his new loot and started moving back towards Roach.

Jaskier followed without a word, and walked beside him like every other time, humming a tune that Geralt absolutely hated. The blood and venom smelled so heavily that he never figured out if Jaskier was scared of the black veins and dark eyes, the hands covered in gore, and the deafening silence after the fight.

* * *

Jaskier was a slut, Geralt soon realized. As soon as anyone looked at him with anything but annoyance or hatred, chances were that they'd fall into bed together. The women were married, usually, just looking for a night of harmless fun, and Jaskier seemed to deliver. He always came back absolutely shining, looking like it had fed his very soul.

Every time, he came back energized instead of sore. Happy instead of sleepy. It was unnatural.

Could be part-incubus, Geralt figured but never asked. Having a partner that looked you in the eyes and didn't scream at the sight was comforting. If Jaskier left so soon because of Geralt's job - despite the fact that he didn't kill innocent ones like Jaskier (he knew the women were fine, they always went back to their daily lives after their nights with Jaskier) - it would hurt more than every time Roach had to be replaced. It said a lot, really; he cared for each of his horses.

So if Jaskier needed a night of lust every once in a while, that was fine. He was considerate and went far enough away that Geralt never heard of their activities, and he always washed properly to keep his nose clear of the scent. Instead, all he smelled was herbs. An interesting scent, for such a feminine man. Jaskier was a well of mysteries Geralt could only wish he had the power to figure out.

The bard was dependable, though. If he had to choose between Geralt and a woman, he always chose Geralt, even if the Witcher insisted upon leaving by himself. Though Jaskier would not be Geralt's first choice for a while, it was good to know that he was Jaskier's.

(But why was a famous bard so lonely that he would follow him around, Geralt didn't think to ask.)

* * *

Desperate for company, Geralt and Jaskier stayed together until the middle of fall. Unexpectedly, Jaskier was the one to leave, sensing when his presence was turning into Geralt's anxiety. They separated in Rinde, with Jaskier heading west towards Oxenfurt, and Geralt headed east along Pontar, towards Kaer Morhen with a promise to meet Jaskier again in Ellander in spring.

Jaskier was trustworthy, but loose-lipped (about all the unnecessary things, Geralt didn't know), and the keep was already hanging by a thread. None of them knew to sew, and the smallest rip would render it useless. Lonely as it was, their snow-kissed sanctuary was dear to them. So Geralt gripped his thimble and fixed the walls and laughed with his brothers, even as he wished for a warm body next to him at night.

He didn't meet up with Jaskier again that spring, nor the next one. He couldn't give himself a reason not to see the bard, but he also couldn't find a reason to go out of his way for another person.

Those two years, he wished again and again that he'd stumble across him. Jaskier had been excellent at helping him maintain his armor, and always patched his wounds up neatly. Jaskier was good with a needle.

(Kaer Morhen creaked its wishes for someone like him, to make the school into a home. Geralt was too blind to hear it.)

* * *

"You're a kind person," Jaskier told him with a smile when they were out drinking. An easy job horribly done brought forth a lot of laughs (it was awkward, and Geralt loved how close it brought them. He would humiliate himself a thousand times for touches that gentle, that chaste) and they celebrated by getting drunk. Jaskier was a slow drinker, but Geralt wasn't. They didn't try to match each others' pace, just enjoyed the night.

"Where did that come from?" Geralt asked, not looking down - no, they were the same height, he could never quite look _down -_ at Jaskier.

Jaskier stretched and shrugged. "I felt like after all that, you needed a little something to lift your spirits. You always look like you expect me to leave after a fight, expect me to believe you're a bigger monster than the ones you slay, but I can see that you're kinder than the ones you don't. You have anger issues, and only a little patience, but you've never raised a hand against someone innocent on purpose. And every time you do, you all but shout your guilt. I'm glad no hym has found your delectable. It would get quite a feast from you."

"And what do you know about hyms?"

"Not enough to stay safe. But enough to stay away. I'm different from you. They don't need to attach themselves to me to feed on my feelings."

Geralt snorted and drank. "That's not how they work."

"I _am_ a poet, Geralt. Read between the lines, dear Witcher. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Right next to my jewelry. And you'll always have both. I share with you my life and my coin, and all I ask for return is a night like this. It breathes life into me like nothing else."

Jaskier really thought he was clever with that, huh? It sounded stupid. Geralt was determined to sound even stupider. "You ask for precious little, but still precious. Don't worry, I'll protect you from those hyms in exchange for the coin, and from vengeful husbands and brothers and fathers in exchange for your life. As masters of our trades."

"Agreed. Let's drink to it."

Jaskier finished his drink, while Geralt found his cup already empty.

To save coin, they slept in the same bed that night, backs to each other. Jaskier woke up with a hangover, unable to remove himself from bed until his bladder screamed louder than his headache. Geralt didn't leave even when he normally would have.

* * *

"Geralt, why do you never tell me about other Witchers?" Jaskier asked in a quiet voice one night.

"You never ask. I wouldn't mind telling you about them, all you need to do is ask," Geralt replied easily.

"So go on. Tell me about your people."

"Well," Geralt hummed, frowning. "To start off, there are multiple schools. I'm from the School of The Wolf, with my three brothers and our father. Not blood, obviously, but Vesemir raised the three of us. Eskel and I were in the same group, we grew up together. He's excellent at signs, much better than me. You'd like him, he reads storybooks and poetry all the time. When people see us together, they always assume we're actual brothers."

"Tell me about your father," Jaskier hummed, shifting closer to Geralt and linking their hands together.

"He's strict, but he cares a lot about us. He used to just be a sword-fighting instructor, but there was a siege... They took the signal tower first. I don't know if they got to them before they could sound the horn or if no one heard it, but the Wolves were caught off-guard. Vesemir was there at the time, had to watch everyone get killed around him. He only survived because he played dead amongst the corpses. Now it's just us, and despite the shit we constantly give him, he still takes good care of us..."

"He sounds really nice. I'm glad you have each other. And your other brothers?"

"Mm... You'd hate Lambert. He's not great at signs, but he's the second-best at swords, right after Vesemir. He loves bombs, too. He's... Mean, at times. At all times, actually. Always bitter, but really dependable. He doesn't have anything against killing people, so long as he has a reason. He's always hated being a Witcher. Berengar, too, but Lambert is a little less obsessed with it. Lambert was one of the only two boys in his group to get out of the Trial of the Mountains. He's the youngest of all of us, so he doesn't really think he fits in with Eskel, Berengar and I. He's still much older than you, though."

"I've no doubt about that," Jaskier laughed softly. "I'm still very young compared to all of you. Tell me about Berengar, what's he like?"

"Rude. He doesn't winter with us much, and if he does it's because he doesn't want to risk starving. I don't know much about him, to be honest. He's older than me, though."

"And how old are you?"

"Not quite a century yet, but my hair is quite accurate in that sense."

"Why _is_ it white?" Jaskier shifted, turning onto his side to look at Geralt.

Geralt looked up at the stars, and never answered.

* * *

"Let's see. Two swords, golden cat eyes, scars, wolf medallion. You're either Lambert, Eskel or Berengar. Nevermind, that glare rules out Eskel. Oh, are those bombs? Lambert, right?"

The Witcher stared at him in pure rage, awe, and slight fear. He swallowed the mouthful of ale with a wince - yep, that was a big gulp - and the tension in his brows tightened further. "What the fuck?"

"Oh, Geralt told me. I'm his bard. I don't know if he's ever told you about me, but we've known each other for a couple of years, and we've become quite the good friends. You may call me Jaskier. So, was I right?"

"Uh... Yeah, I'm Lambert. Can't say Geralt has mentioned you, though."

"Of course not, he never says anything without someone asking him first. Except for those horrendous puns, then he won't shut up," Jaskier sighed, taking a seat right across the table from Lambert. "So, what brings you to Cidaris?"

"Money," Lambert answered simply.

"Yeah, fair enough. Have you any contracts going on, ones you haven't started? I'd love to accompany you, write a song about it maybe. Don't worry, I know how to hide, take orders. Patch you up later if needed. Got some practice with Geralt."

"You're insane, aren't you?"

"A little, maybe. But would you truly say no to a positive song with your name in it? Extra money when people recognize you as a dependable Witcher, one people can trust? Even more money, when they realize how dangerous it is, even for you. When they realize they're not paying for their lives to be saved, but for your well-being as well. Think about it! Geralt's been getting a lot more than he used to thanks to me. The Butcher of Blaviken is no more, now it's the White Wolf, serving his people loyally."

"Just don't give me a weird fucking nickname, too," Lambert agreed, sighing. "Just my name is fine."

"Great! When are we going?" Jaskier grinned, leaning forward.

"Tomorrow morning. Be ready by dawn, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Hah! That's what Geralt used to say, too."

* * *

Soon enough, there were a total of three songs making the rounds on the Continent with Lambert's name in them. Of course, there would have been more, had Lambert not insisted on traveling alone from then on. Still, Jaskier was proud enough of his work to leave with a spring in his step, even if he was sad to have to leave such a fun companion.

Though he did, for once, actively try to search for Geralt this year, he never found him, and was forced to turn back to Oxenfurt by the time fall came around. He would buy a horse next year, maybe actually have a chance of catching up to Geralt. He'd been stupid this year, chasing after a man with Roach as a horse on foot. No wonder he never found him.

(He didn't find him next year, either)

* * *

Finally reunited again, Geralt and Jaskier fell back into their simple routine. Jaskier getting scared shitless as Geralt fights (even though it was just a single nekker that had been separated from its pack and wandered towards a town in its confusion).

It inspired a simple song about a town being attacked and a fair maiden getting separated from her people amidst the chaos, only to wind up running into a band of bandits and getting killed for what little she owned. If anyone found out what had inspired it, they would probably faint.

As Geralt looted the body and pulled out the nekker's bloody heart, Jaskier decided to write another part some time later about the fair maiden's cursed heart getting revenge on the bandits. He'd turn it romantic somehow. A mage bringing her back to life, and living happily ever after? No, necromancy wasn't exactly an acceptable topic to sing about... He'd figure it out, though.

For now, Jaskier sang his best songs so far in exchange for a room. No dinner or bath added, but it wasn't hard to pay for those. Geralt looked a lot more relaxed after a bath, too, so it was well worth it. It was nice to make Geralt happy, even if it was just small things. He wished he knew Geralt enough to bring him to tears with a gift, but he had neither the knowledge nor money to do it. It'd have to wait a few years.

Jaskier was alright with waiting, so long as he did eventually see Geralt smile. There were a few smirks here and there, but it was always awkward. He was clearly either too tired to smile properly or just not used to smiling much.

After the bath, Geralt cleaned his weapons and armor, taking his time with each item. He carefully considered which parts needed to be repaired or replaced, but none seemed in bad condition as of right now. Though, seeing Jaskier writing his new two-part song, he thought back. He'd never seen Jaskier ever clean or oil his lute. It never needed new strings or pegs.

"Do you need any lute oil or something?" Geralt asked, in good nature, only to be met with soft laughter.

"Geralt, dear, lutes don't need to be oiled. In fact, it would be a crime to oil such a wonderful lady. It would do more harm than good. Besides, this one is enchanted. If it wasn't, it wouldn't have lasted this long. Humidity is the worst if you travel with a lute, but this one has never cracked, and probably never will, unless the enchantment wears off. Any more questions?"

"Who enchanted it?"

"Why, the elves, of course," Jaskier grinned, and went back to his writing. That was the end of that. Geralt went to sleep hours before Jaskier even yawned.


End file.
